


Do a Barrel Roll

by daltonacademyfightclub



Series: space wrasslin' [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Fluff and Angst, Growing feelings, M/M, Outer Space, Space Flight, Space Freighting, so much space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:43:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5821828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daltonacademyfightclub/pseuds/daltonacademyfightclub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coddled by his parents, all Seth Rollins ever wanted to was fly. When he finally gets the opportunity, he finds that there's more to being a pilot than just knowing what turns to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Walking on the Moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hyacinthus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthus/gifts).



_Life begins at the end of your comfort zone._

Seth took a deep breath, looking out into the main hangar of Wartime Wayfarer Enterprises, the intersystem freighting company that would one day be his. It wasn't a sight he hadn't seen multiple times before, but the sheer size of the ships and the power those pilots had over them never ceased to amaze him.

“You excited to go downstairs?” His father, Hunter, asked from behind him, clapping a hand on Seth's shoulder before moving to stand next to him. “I remember when you were just a kid and Shawn and I convinced your mother to let you ride with us for the first time. Got you a little helmet and everything.”

“I wanted it to be black,” Seth remembered with a smile, the excitement he'd felt as his father's best friend and copilot had set him down in a cockpit seat and strapped on Seth an obnoxious lime-green helmet. “I was so mad when I saw it was green.”

Hunter snorted, reaching in his pocket to take out a keycard. “You were on the _DX_ ; I don't know what you expected.” He gestured for Seth to follow as the door slid open.

“Your mother and I are so proud of your graduation, Seth,” Hunter continued as the two of them walked down the hallway side by side, Hunter’s shiny dress shoes leaving commanding _clunks_ in their wake while Seth just padded along silently, still looking out into the hangar. “I apologize that we missed it. Things came up.”

Seth bit back a snarky _things always “come up”_ and just nodded in reply. He was used to barely seeing more than the shadows of his parents by now. “It wasn't anything special,” he assured his father in lieu of further inquiry. “Real boring, if you ask me.”

Hunter chuckled. “Good to know it hasn't changed in twenty years, then.” He brandished his keycard again, holding it out to another sensor.

“Your grandfather and I think, since one day the WWE will be yours, that you should be exposed to the inner workings of the business.” The door separating the hallway from the elevator opened with a beep, prompting them to step inside. “Your mother, to a lesser degree, thinks so too. That's why we're giving you a tour of the main facility with one of the lead mechanics as your guide today.”

“Do I know him?” Seth secretly prayed that he wasn't being paired up with the guy he only knew by his callsign, a skinny-looking former member of the _Degeneration-X_ crew called X-Pac. The guy was nice but kind of erratic, and he didn't know if he could pretend to be interested in an endless stream of techno-babble all day.

“Unless you've been sneaking down here while you were in the academy, then no.” His dad smirked, apparently noticing how Seth relaxed at that. “I wouldn't set my only son up with Sean Waltman for the day. Hell, I probably wouldn't set my worst enemy up with Sean for a tour nowadays.”

“Where is he anyway?” Seth asked. He was met with a shrug.

“Hell if I know.” The elevator opened with a soft _bing._ “But here's where we get off.”

* * *

Dean frowned as he put on the sleeves of his black WWE mechanic's uniform. He didn't normally wear his jumpsuit the way it was meant to be worn, but today was a special occasion. He had to show the McMahon-Helmsley kid around the ships and not let the kid get caught in a jet turbine or something.

Roman, his best friend and the pilot of the _Family Tree_ , had told him that the kid wasn't really a “kid” by any stretch of the imagination. “I used to see him around the mission control offices when I was a kid,” Roman said. “We never really met, but I figure he's close to our age now.”

That might be Roman’s own estimation, but Dean was pretty convinced that he was leading around a teenage dirtbag for most of the day.

 _You're not to let Seth near any of the midsize freighters, underneath any active ships, or around_ _ANY_ _of the thrusters_ , the note Dean had received the day before on official WWE-stamped stationery read. The cursive looked feminine, so he figured it was Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley, the kid’s mom. Maybe Seth was a pyromaniac or something, but Dean had to fight the urge to write a note back asking if it was alright to open the airlock and shoot him out into space.

“Ambrose!” He knew _that_ voice well.

Dean turned around, zipping up the last bit of his undershirt showing beneath the uniform. “Mr. Helmsley, sir, just waiting on your son -”

“Well, you won’t have to wait any longer,” Mr. Helmsley said, taking a step back and to the side to reveal a man about Dean’s age walking a little further behind him. He wasn’t particularly strange-looking or anything, save for the fact that he had dark hair coming down to his shoulders in a way that reminded Dean a little bit of Roman. And that _nose_ \- that was definitely Hunter Hearst Helmsley’s kid.

“Seth, this is Dean Ambrose. He’s going to be showing you around the main hangar today.” Seth leaned in, still silent, and extended his hand for Dean to shake. “Mr. Ambrose, this is my son and the future owner of this company, Seth.”

“Nice to meet you,” Seth said smoothly as Dean shook his hand, voice calm and a lot more collected than the frantic mess of _oh no, he’s hot_ and _look cool, talk normal_ that was going on in his own mind at that moment.

“I-I’m Dean,” Dean said.

_Fuck._

Seth smiled politely and let go of Dean’s hand, letting it fall to his side. “I know.” It took everything in Dean’s power to keep from turning as red as the TM-65 cluster canisters he’d installed in the back of _Family Tree_ ’s rocket supply chamber that morning. He knew he wasn’t the slickest guy in the room, but this was downright embarrassing. At least Seth had smiled, though.

“Well,” Hunter said, clapping Seth on the back hard enough to send him slightly forward some more, and Dean realized that he had actually forgotten that the other man was still there. “I’ll leave you two to it. I trust that you got my wife’s note?”

“No midsize, no active, no thrusters,” Dean recited, noticing the way that Seth cringed when his father brought up the memo. “Don’t worry, sir. Seth’s in… well, Seth could be in _more_ capable hands, but he’ll be fine in mine.”

“I sure hope so, Mr. Ambrose,” Hunter said, tapping the side of his nose as to signal something to him. “One of these days, he’s going to be your boss.”

Seth waited until Hunter was a good distance away before speaking again. “Don’t listen to him,” he said, rolling his eyes. “He’s convinced that I’m gonna go straight from some cushy office job around my mom to running the place. That’s not happening.”

“Oh, really?” Dean raised his eyebrows. “Bold claim for the boss’s son.” He liked this kid - _guy_ \- already.

“Really.” Seth looked determined, folding his arms over his chest. “I just graduated from the pilot’s academy over in MA-01075, top of my class. Well, not the _very_ top, but good enough.” Seth looked around the hangar, Dean following his gaze around at all the ships. “I’m going to have a ship of my own in here soon enough.”

Dean was impressed. The guy was ambitious, no doubt, but if things went how Dean expected them to, he’d have his mother to answer to before _anyone_ named Seth in the tri-quadrant area got a ship in the WWE hangars. “Guess it’s in the blood, flying, huh?” Dean started walking back toward the back of the hangar to the toolroom, Seth catching on and following close behind. “I’m sure you know ‘bout your dad being one of the greatest freight pilots of all time.”

“I’m adopted, actually,” Seth replied casually, and Dean nearly tripped over air. Well, that was the second time he’d been surprised today, and in under five minutes. Looked like it was going to be a record-breaking day.

“Oh, I woulda figured you were blood ‘cause, y’know…” Dean didn’t want to say it out loud, instead making an awkward gesture over his face. “Y’know.”

Seth smirked. “Yeah, I know I have a huge-ass nose to match my dad’s. Whoever my birth father is must have one too to match.” Dean was relieved that Seth wasn’t pissed off at the question. He’d nearly come to blows with Bloated Owens the other week for insinuating that maybe he wasn’t husky, maybe he just liked food too much.

Speaking of callsigns…

“Hey, you know what your dad’s callsign is, right?” Dean asked, hoping Seth hadn’t seen the patch with Dean’s own on his uniform and come to a different conclusion.

“‘Course I do. Triple H.” Seth seemed fairly apathetic about it, but Dean didn’t like it that much, if only because it wasn’t super original. It was just Hunter’s initials. Big whoop.

“Guess what mine is.” Dean kept walking, heading toward the huge metal storage drawer where they kept all the socket wrenches.

Seth looked to be deep in thought for a second, before realizing (rightly so) that it was printed on Dean’s jumpsuit. He stayed still so Seth could read it. “‘Lunatic’?” he asked, looking confused. “What’s that all about?”

“Oh, your dad didn’t tell you that he saddled you with the crazy mechanic for today.” Dean smirked and picked a wrench out of the drawer before shutting it with a loud bang. “Guy up there in mission control gave it to me my first year on the job.” He pointed with the wrench up at the round glass-paneled room that had a bird’s-eye view of everything that was going on in the hangar. “I tried to give myself one, but it didn’t catch on the same way. Prolly ‘cause it wasn’t being called over the intercom all the damn time.”

Seth chuckled. “I’ll call you by the one you gave yourself if you want. What was it?”

“Asylum.” Dean watched as Seth’s face twisted up again, chuckling. “Yeah, I know. Not much better.”

“How ‘bout I just call you Dean?” Seth asked. “Would that be alright?”

Dean smiled. “Yeah, that’ll work.”


	2. Space Truckin'

“You’re gonna come ‘cross all types of people here, so I guess I’m going to have to be the one to show them all to you.” Dean didn’t sound too pleased with that, turning around from the metal drawer he’d just gotten a socket wrench out of and walking back out into the middle of the hangar.

“I’m gonna let you know real names and callsigns as we go, but stick with the real names until you get to know them. ‘Cept for Stardust,” Dean said, twirling the wrench in his hand. “Call him Stardust. Kid’s fuckin’ weird.”

He pointed at a large ship surrounded by four men that, for some reason, all appeared to look like the same person with just a color palette switch. “That right there’s the _Sister Abigail_. Big-ass thing, huh?” Dean looked back at Seth, and Seth nodded immediately. He was pretty sure that thing was the size of _DX_ if he was remembering it properly.

“It’s the only frigate the WWE’s got. Heavily armed, and the crew ain’t nothin’ to fuck with either.” Dean smirked as Seth’s eyes widened. “So, of course, let me introduce you to them. Weirdo-beardo there with the stringy hair and the potbelly? Bray Wyatt, captain. Call ‘im ‘Buzzard’.”

“Why ‘Buzzard’?” Seth asked quietly in the hopes that the _Sister Abigail_ ’s crew couldn’t hear him. He could probably take one of them at a time, but if he pissed off all four at once? No frigging way.

“Dude has a weird preoccupation with death. Anyway,” Dean continued, “Big Red over there is named Erick Rowan.”

“Is that his callsign?”

“Nah, I just like callin’ him that. Roman and I decided on ‘Lamb’, like ‘lamb to the slaughter’. Cool, huh?” Dean looked pleased with himself, but Seth must not have looked too pleased, considering Dean grimaced a second later. “Okay, yeah, it’s a little dark.

“The black-haired version of Lamb with the baby face is Braun Strowman. We call him Black, and he seems to be fine with that. Don’t talk to him if you don’t have to. But then we have my personal favorite, Luke Harper, he’s their mechanic - HEY, GATOR! YOU TAKEN A SHOWER LATELY?”

Seth blanched as the last tall, dark-haired man of the group snapped his head to the side to see who was calling him. _Please don’t come over here, please don’t come over here,_ Seth pleaded inside his head, looking anxiously at Dean who was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, grinning. _Maybe Lunatic isn’t a half-bad callsign for him after all._

“Get lost, Ambrose,” the one called Buzzard said, stepping in front of Luke (Gator? Were callsigns interchangeable in his head?) before the other man had a chance to move forward in Dean and Seth’s direction. “I doubt that maintenance wants to be cleaning your filthy blood off the hangar floor.”

Dean snorted. “C’mon, Seth. There’s _Sister Abigail_ for you.”

He pointed across the way at a dual-cockpit fighter ship. “Betcha never seen one of those before.”

Seth shook his head no. It didn’t _look_ particularly realistic (or practical, if he was being honest), but there it was, right there in front of him. “Lemme guess: sibling duo.”

“Even better, man,” Dean said, winking at him. “Twin sisters. _Hot_ twin sisters.” Almost on cue, two women in matching pilot jackets came out with another girl from behind the ship. The other girl was just as pretty as the twins, but there was a certain something about the two sisters that Seth couldn’t put his finger on.

“It’s the twin appeal,” Dean explained, apparently reading Seth’s mind and answering for him. “Their ship’s called _Twin Magic_.”

“No kidding,” Seth replied. “What’s their callsigns?”

Dean shook his head. “Just their names, Nikki and Brie. Last name’s Bella.”

“And relationship status?” Seth couldn’t help but ask, though he figured both twins were way out of his league.

“Taken by Goat and Thug. Sorry to disappoint.” Dean started laughing. “Jesus _Christ_. Wait ‘til you meet Thug, you’ll laugh your ass off.” He waved at the twins and their friend, waiting for a wave back before leaving Seth in the dust again as he headed further down the rows of ships.

“That right there is _Legacy_. Tiny li’l thing, but it’s Viper - Randy Orton, ‘scuse me - Viper’s dad’s old ship, and, well, he’s kinda attached. With him is Ted DiBiase, Junior -”

Seth cut him off, surprised. “DiBiase? Like _the_ Ted DiBiase that we handle the Vanguard account for?”

“Guess so,” Dean said with a shrug. “Don’t know many people with that last name, and that sure sounds like it’d be Junior’s dad.” Dean squinted for a second, looking into the cockpit of _Legacy_ curiously. “I don’t see Stardust in there. Wonder where he’s at.”

“Who?” Seth asked, before there was a tap on his shoulder and he turned around only to be assaulted with a vision of gold and black facepaint.

“That would be me.” The painted pilot stuck his hand out for Seth to shake. “Stardust, cosmic overlord traversing all known and unknown systems, at your service.” Seth, doing what he knew was polite, shook the other man’s gloved hand, but made it a point to keep the handshake as short as possible.

The man supposedly known as Stardust peered around Seth’s shoulders at Dean. “And what do they have you paired with _this_ mongrel for?”

“Hey, this mongrel could kick your ass, pal,” Dean fired back, and Seth swore he could hear Dean gritting his teeth behind him. “I’m showin’ the boss’s son ‘round the ships. Don’t get all weird on him, now; you just met the guy.”

“We can talk later, Stardust,” Seth said diplomatically, smiling at the man in front of him and getting a bared-teeth grin in return. “I’m sure you have a lot of… interesting things to tell me.”

“Understatement of the fuckin’ year,” Dean mumbled as he tugged on Seth’s arm to keep him moving. “ _Legacy_ ’s mechanic is Natalya, better known as Nattie, but she’s not with the ship right now because she’s likely with…” Dean scanned the room again, pointing at a ship further on down the line. “Bingo.”

“Which one’s that?” Seth furrowed his brow as he walked closer to get a better look. Sure enough, there was a lady sitting underneath the helm in a folding chair, filing her nails as she talked to a bald man sitting next to her. “Is that a police cruiser?”

“Used to be. That’s why they’ve got the sirens on top. That bad boy’s _Siren’s Call_ , piloted by Nattie’s husband Tyson and his life partner -”

“I thought you said they were married.”

“Doesn’t make a lick of difference to them. Bald one’s called Cesaro, or, if you’re me, Swiss Miss.” Dean smirked at Seth. “Guess what Tyson’s callsign is. Go on, guess.”

Seth was thinking - _TJ? Ty-something?_ \- when he saw a cat with a flattened-up face trot down the ramp and curl up at Natalya’s feet, a stocky man with brown hair trailing not far behind. “Is that… are they allowed to have that cat on there?” Seth looked at Dean for verification. “Can you have animals on ships?”

“Somehow they get away with it. Now, go on, guess!” Dean looked proud of himself, so it had to be good. After a second, he spoke again. “You give up? I bet you weren’t even thinking of it.”

“What is it?” Seth smiled, and he realized now that he was smiling so much around Dean that his face was actually starting to hurt. “I give up.”

“2Pawz!” Dean looked downright delighted with himself. 2Pawz - Seth figured he was actually going to stick with ‘Tyson’ for now - looked up and saw Dean, waving him and Seth over.

“What’s up, Lunatic?” Tyson asked, slapping Dean five in Dean’s free hand as Nattie saluted him from the folding chair. “You goin’ up with Greco anytime soon?”

“Highly, _highly_ doubt it,” Dean said, before nudging Seth forward. “This one here might, though. This is Seth, Hunter and Stephanie’s son.”

“A McMahon?” Nattie leaned forward, interested.

Seth blushed. “More of a, uh, McMahon-Helmsley. I use both last names.”

“Well, you should. Your father was an _amazing_ pilot in his day,” Swiss Miss said, speaking with an accent that Seth couldn’t quite place. “ _Wunderbar._ ”

“Anyway, I’m in charge of showing Sethie here ‘round so he gets a feel for the place. Just passed by _Legacy_ back there, Nat, and I figured I’d go lookin’ for you.”

Nattie rolled her eyes. “I’m not going back to that stupid hunk of junk until I get paged.” She crossed her arms over her chest, tilting her chin up. “ _Siren’s_ is my _real_ ship.”

“It’s a Fast-Attack Craft type shuttle,” Tyson explained, pointing up to show Seth the classification tag under the nose of the ship. “It’s a ‘FACt’ for short.”

“And that’s a wrap,” Dean chimed in, waving goodbye to the two (or rather, three) crew members of _Siren’s Call_ before beckoning Seth along. “We got a whole half-a hangar to go through, and we’ve just been shootin’ the shit with every pilot we see.”

“I don’t mind it taking awhile,” Seth said honestly. “This is really fun.” Dean turned to look at him over his shoulder. “You make a good tour guide.”

Dean turned around fully, grinning and making a motion with the hand holding the wrench as if his heart was aflutter. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special, Seth. Now, c’mon. We got a lotta ground to cover.”

* * *

Dean made short work of showing Seth the rest of the freight ships in the hangar, all the way from _The Good Ship Francesca_ liner with Flyboy (Kofi), Doc (Xavier), and Big E (who went by that anyway) to _The Five-Knuckle Shuffle_ , which even Seth had to admit was unnecessarily tricked out for a mere cruiser.

“Tell me again why they gave _him_ the callsign ‘Thug’?” Seth asked as they walked away, looking down at the wristband John had slipped on his wrist before they had to go.

Dean was still wheezing. “No one… Jesus, fuck - no one really knows, I think. Not even John.”

He had to pull himself together to introduce Seth to the most important ship in the hangar, though: _Family Tree_ , the one he called his own and held his family to boot. It was by far the most impressive freighter in the fleet, but it was also the last Battlestar left, and the only one Seth’s grandfather would allow to stay around.

“I think he has some sentimental value attached to it,” Dean reasoned as they approached the huge vessel. “Back during the Monday Night Wars, when The Rock was runnin’ this ship all over the known universe, it was _the_ ship to look out for. Dude was practically a rockstar.”

Seth gawked. “ _This_ is Rocky Maivia’s old ship?”

“Yeah, this hunk’a junk.” Dean banged on the side of it, sighing as he thought about how much it would cost to do a whole new paint job on the exterior, even without outside labor costs. “M’boy Roman’s trying, but since he’s not The Rock -”

“Some of us have to make do with being ourselves.” Dean looked up at the boarding ramp to see his brother by choice coming down, the rest of the family in tow. “This the McMahon-Helmsley kid?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good-sounding comment or not,” Seth said with a nervous chuckle, looking at Dean.

“Nah, he means no harm. Everyone, this is Seth, boss’s son, way cooler than Hunter but don’t tell him I said that.” Dean shared a grin with Seth, hoping that it would loosen him up. After all, Seth probably would have to start out on a ship before getting his own, and _Family Tree_ had plenty of room to spare if Seth needed it.

Roman nodded, sharing a look of his own with his twin cousins, Jimmy and Jey, who were standing behind him with another cousin, Tamina. “Sounds like we got a new addition on the craft already.”

“Mom - uh, the front office - would have to approve first. But I just graduated from the pilot’s academy last week and I’m nothing if not excited to be -”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Roman held out a hand to stop Seth before he got going, and Dean’s heart sunk. Roman could sometimes be a little too blunt for his own good, and as captain, if he didn’t want Seth onboard, he was the one making that decision alone. He looked at Dean. “You tell him our callsigns yet?”

Well, Dean wasn’t expecting that response. “Not yet. You all came down just as I was getting to the good part.”

“Well,” Roman said, gesturing between Dean and Seth. “Introduce our fine selves.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Well, the smartass with the long hair that there’s only one of is named Roman Reigns; callsign ‘Greco’.”

“Ohh, like ‘Greco-Roman’,” Seth clarified, nodding along with Dean when he figured it out. “Did you come up with that one too? That’s clever.”

Roman raised his eyebrows curiously at Dean as Dean just shrugged and smiled. They could talk about what those eyebrows meant later, in private. “I try. The smartass twins are Jimmy and Jey, but you can call ‘em The Usos.”

“Means ‘brother’ in Samoan,” Jimmy helpfully put in. “Nothin’ too fancy for us.”

“But speakin’ of fancy… last one, the statuesque beauty, the gem of the Pacific Quadrant -”

Tamina cut him off with a glare before looking at Seth. “Tamina Snuka. You can just call me Tamina.”

“You don’t have a callsign?” Seth asked.

“Oh, no, I do. It’s just a shitty one. 'B.A.D.' Bad.”

Dean was miffed. “It stands for 'beautiful and dangerous'. That’s a goddamn compliment and you know it.”

His rant was ended by the buzzing of a pager. All five of them instinctively checked their own to be sure, but it was Seth who ended up being the one getting called. Dean sighed. He had a feeling he knew what this meant.

“I have to head back upstairs,” he said, looking honestly apologetic. “But I’ll be back around soon, if that’s alright? The ship’s awesome, and I’d love to see the inside sometime.” Dean noticed that that made Roman smile. _Hopefully Ro likes him,_ Dean thought to himself. _This guy’s better than just alright._

“I’ll walk you back,” Dean offered, putting the socket wrench in the left thigh pocket of his jumpsuit. “Can’t have you out there alone.”

“I can’t, can I?” Seth countered with a teasing smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without my tour guide.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All ship classifications taken from/further described [here](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/StandardSciFiFleet).
> 
> Welcome to the universe, y'all.


	3. Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft

“So I’m talking to my mom, right,” Seth began, leaning up against the side of _Family Tree_ while Dean fiddled around with a valve on the side. “And she asked me _again_ when I was going to consider moving into the spare office.” He sighed. “One of these days, man, I think she’s gonna throw me in the office and lock me inside.”

“And when she does, I’ll be right there with a couple’a bobby pins to break you out.” Dean grinned, holding out a hand as he turned around to look at Seth directly. “Hand me those tweezers there on the stool, wouldja?” Seth nodded and did just that, Dean saluting him as he turned around and went back to work.

It didn’t surprise Dean anything Seth was at an impasse with Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley of all people. In fact, given the horror stories he’d heard from Roman about dealing with her, that she was taking it easy on him. “Maybe you should talk to your dad ‘bout all of this. I mean, she _married_ a pilot.”

“She’ll come up with something like ‘so I understand the risks!’ or something.” Dean turned around just as Seth rolled his eyes. “I’ve been here for a whole month and I feel guilty enough even coming down here to the hangar to talk to you.”

Dean frowned. “What, you don’t wanna come down here anymore?”

Seth looked insulted. “Of course I do. This is where I’m _meant_ to be; I literally went to school for this… but I don’t like sneaking ‘round what my mom wants me to do behind her back. I mean, it’s not right.”

“Look, Seth.” Dean walked past him and placed the tweezers back on top of his trusty toolkit. “Talk to your dad about it, see if he can talk to your mom, or at least get you set as a rotational copilot on someone else’s shift.” He leaned in close to whisper. “Between you an’ me, Junior’s got to go.”

“Don’t talk about Ted like that,” Seth chided him, taking a swipe at his arm as Dean chuckled and picked up his toolkit, heading toward the ramp of _Family Tree_ . “I wouldn’t want to be on _Legacy_ anyway.”

“Where would you want to be placed?” Dean asked, _please be here_ running through his head a hundred times before Seth spoke again.

“Probably here on _Family Tree_ ,” Seth said, following Dean up the ramp as he did a mental fistpump. “I mean, you guys are all really cool and it’s not like you don’t have the room, after all.”

“We’ve definitely got the room to keep you here,” Dean said, looking down the hall to the barracks area, thinking about the empty bunk above Dean’s own. _I’d like to keep you here all to myself, to be honest._

Seth smiled, waving at Roman who was coming down the hall in their direction. “We’ll see. Hey, Roman!” Dean had told him that with the crew of _Family Tree_ , callsigns were never really necessary unless he wasn’t sure exactly which Uso he was talking to. “You flyin’ out tonight?”

“Hopefully,” Roman said, crossing his fingers on one hand and tousling Dean’s hair with the other until Dean slapped it away. He didn’t need to be treated like a kid in front of Seth. “Why? You got the permit papers to fly with us?”

“We were just talkin’ ‘bout that, actually,” Dean said, smoothing his hair down again where Roman had messed it up. “He has to check with his _mommy_ -”

“I have to talk some more.” Seth glared at Dean, and Dean snickered. Admittedly, the whole thing _was_ a little funny. “But I think I’ll be fine.”

“Well, you just let me know when you get the okay and you’re more than welcome to ride along, man. Jimmy and Jey would probably enjoy the break.” Roman saluted Seth and walked past, waiting until Seth had his back turned again to shoot Dean a gesture that managed to make _him_ of all people blush.

Seth looked at him strangely. “You okay? You’re all red…” Seth moved closer in what looked like an attempt to check his forehead for a fever while Dean moved back to dodge it.

“I-I’m fine,” Dean insisted, tugging on his collar a little and looking away. “Just a little… hot.”

* * *

Seth decided to take Dean’s advice to heart and speak to his father about getting a cruiser of his own in the WWE hangars. It was actually kind of dumb to not have done that in the first place - his relationship with his father was far better than the one with his mother, probably due to having some similar interests. What Seth figured was stopping him, deep down, was a bad case of impostor syndrome.

“You’re as much of a McMahon as your mother and grandfather, Seth,” his governess Mae had told him when he was barely taller than a battery converter. “McMahons aren’t just born, they’re bred too.” Seth remembered her chucking him under the chin, smiling and smelling like rosy perfume. “Don’t you ever think that you weren’t chosen for a reason.”

It still got to him, though, occasionally. He had a sneaking suspicion that the reason why his parents didn’t show up to his graduation from the pilot academy about a month and a half ago was because they found out that Seth graduated third in his class.

Not valedictorian, not salutatorian, not any -torian at all. In this case, _third_ place was first loser. And this year’s first loser was the son of one of the school’s most prestigious alumni, Hunter Hearst Helmsley. Seth was very narrowly a failure.

He paced back and forth in the spare office, looking at the door every time he heard footsteps walk by. He’d paged his father about ten minutes ago, and while he was a busy man, he’d never kept Seth waiting like this when he knew Seth could seek him out on his own. Finally, the door opened slowly, Hunter peering in around the corner.

“Seth?” he asked unsurely, letting himself in and shutting the door behind him. “You alright, son?”

Seth nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to talk to you alone, ask you something.” He looked back at the office desk before leaning back against it. “I, uh, wanted to ask you about getting a ship of my own.”

“No.” Hunter was firm. “If you think you can go behind your mother’s back and talk -”

“Dad, please.” Seth couldn’t remember the last time he’d interrupted his father while he was speaking, and from the look on his face, his father couldn’t believe it either. He stood back up straight.

“Let me prove I can fly. I-I know I’m not exactly what you wanted in a son, but please let me do this one thing.” He stepped closer to his dad, who still looked shocked. “One mission, and I can make you proud.”

“What makes you think that you’re not what I wanted?” His dad’s voice was quiet, cautious, like he was trying to make sense of something in his head. Seth didn’t understand - he had been perfectly clear with his intentions. “Seth, why do you think I’m not proud of my own son?”

“Graduation,” Seth said, as if it was obvious. “Yeah, I know you said that there was business to do and business usually comes first, but I mean, I was third in my class. You were _first_. I can’t exactly blame you if you and Mom didn’t want to be there where everyone could see -”

It was his father’s turn to interrupt him. “You think we didn’t want to be there?” he asked, incredulous. “Seth, if I hadn’t been in the Asiatic System - and believe me, I wish I hadn’t been there of all places - my ass would have been in the front row watching you walk across that stage to get pinned.”

“But that’s not -” Seth began, now not sure where else he could go with this to confirm his own personal doubts. “Mom thinks I should be in the office full-time with her. _She_ doesn’t think I can do it.”

“You know damn well your mother just does not want you risking your neck out there. And, honestly, neither do I.” His father rubbed his forehead, looking at the office floor. “But you did graduate the academy _and_ get your business degree like you mother asked of you…”

When his father looked back up at him, he didn’t see Hunter Hearst Helmsley. He saw Triple H. “If we were to get you a cruiser - midsize, nothing too fancy - what would you call it?”

Seth had been waiting for this question ever since he decided at the age of six that he wanted to be in the stars, where he knew he’d end up one day and where he knew he belonged. “Easy,” he said with a shrug. “I’d call it _The Architect_.”


	4. The Space Race

“ _No_.”

“Hear me out, Mom, it’s the least you can do -”

“The least I can do is put you back on a shuttle home.” Stephanie McMahon’s tone was firm, and Seth groaned as his mother looked back away from him to go for her phone. “Maybe bringing you around the business this soon out of school was a mistake.”

 _More like ‘maybe you going to the pilot’s academy itself’ was a mistake, huh, Mom?_ Seth wanted to ask but bit his tongue. He was lucky that he was able to go with their blessing and payments already. That alone was already a point of malcontent between his parents.

“Bringing me out here was not a mistake, Mom,” Seth said, watching as she fiddled with her phone, likely to call his father and ask why he was making decisions without her input. This back-and-forth between the two of them had gone on since he was a teenager. “Look, I did everything you asked, got a business degree _and_ my pilot’s license, and if this is what I want to do with my life right now, why can’t you support that?”

“Because it’s a reckless, risky job -”

“You married Dad right in the middle of his career!” Seth was incredulous. “You married him two years into being a pilot, and he was nearly late to the wedding because _DX_ got held up with the trade embargo. You let me go on missions with all of them when I was a kid!”

“Seth Vincent McMahon-Helmsley!” Seth winced, looking away as his mother rose from her chair, palms planted firmly on the desk in front of her as she leaned forward in his direction. “You will _not_ talk to me like that!”

There was the sound of the door unlocking and opening behind them, and Seth turned around to see his father in the doorway. He didn’t look extremely stressed, but then again, he was used to having to get his wife to simmer down. “Why are we full-naming him this early in the morning?”

“You’re right, I should be full-naming _you_ ,” Stephanie said, rounding off on Hunter. “Buying him a ship without even asking me first? And where are we supposed to have it docked, Hunter, hm? Because you already know that personal crafts are not allowed to be docked in the WWE hangars for more than twenty-four hours -”

“You wanted Seth working for WWE, right?” his father asked, not waiting for an answer before turning to look at his son. “Then it looks like you and your cruiser are the newest additions to the force.”

His mom was fuming. Seth knew that there wasn’t much she could do at this point with the ship already ordered and his dad backing Seth’s argument in favor of flying. She could try and pull someone up from WWE’s subsidiary New Extraplanetary Transport (or NXT, for short) to fill any spot that Seth wanted to fill, but that would require a lot more paperwork and filibustering than Seth knew his mom wanted to deal with.

“I’m not happy about this,” was all she could come back with.

 _Understatement of the century,_ Seth thought, but that wasn’t a no, and that was all he needed to hear.

“Look, I’m gonna be an awesome pilot, Mom,” Seth assured her, taking a step forward in an effort to reassure her. “I’ll start off with short trips so I can get used to _The Architect_ and move up from there. No fancy moves, flippy things -”

“You’re not even gonna _try_ hyperjumping?” Hunter sounded disappointed before Stephanie cut her eyes his way. “I-I mean, that’s actually a good thing, son.”

“I’ve wanted to do this since I was a kid, and you and Dad aren’t going anywhere anytime soon to where I need to go straight to the corporate side of the business without doing anything else that _I_ want to do first.” Seth watched as his mother’s expression softened. Their relationship was shaky, but at the end of the day, Seth knew his mom loved him a whole hell of a lot.

“I know you want what’s best for me, and space freighting is ‘scary’,” he continued, using air quotes, “but I went to school for this. I’m prepared.”

Stephanie pursed her lips and looked down at her desk. “Fine. But I’m getting you a flight helmet.”

* * *

“Have you seen Seth?” Dean asked for the fourth time that day. Seth was usually around the hangar after lunch most days, but he hadn’t seen the guy in nearly a week and he was starting to get worried if the whole thing about him flying for WWE blew up in his face after all. Absence wasn’t making the heart grow fonder, rather, it was just making him nervous.

“Not yet, but I told you already I’d keep you posted.” Roman replied, the pretzel stick he was snacking on lolling out of the corner of his mouth. “You’re really crazy ‘bout this guy, huh?”

“He’s a cool guy,” Dean said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m feelin’ judged.”

Roman put his hands up in surrender. “Judgment-free zone, man. I’m just sayin’ that I think if Seth asked you to, ah… adjust his rockets, you wouldn’t say no.”

Dean snorted. “‘Adjust his rockets’? You have a kid, Roman; you can say the word ‘fuck’.”

“Yeah, but Jimmy’s instituted a swearing jar on the ship because mission control apparently thinks that we’ve become ‘too vulgar’ over the comm system. The hardest one was switching ‘nutsack’ for ‘tater tots’.”

“What?!”

“I was eating them at the time! Had to improvise.” Dean watched as the pretzel rod slowly disappeared with munches into Roman’s mouth. “Gotta be.. a good ‘xample.”

“You’re a regular paragon of elegance,” Dean replied as he rolled his eyes, turning around to see Seth coming towards them. His felt his heart skip a beat in spite of trying to keep himself together, but only waved in acknowledgement at first.

Seth looked incredibly happy. Like, unrealistically happy. “You got the ship, didn’t you?” Dean asked, figuring that that was going to be the only thing that he knew of that was going to get a reaction like that out of the guy.

Seth nodded. “ _The Architect_ will be in business starting next week, once it gets here. Dad’s having it built over in the northern sectors so it’ll take some getting used to starting off.” Dean didn’t notice at first the look that Roman had on his face, but he did see the way Seth’s eyebrows drew together when he saw. “You alright, Roman?”

Dean didn’t want to say anything, instead curling an arm around Seth’s shoulders and leading him back away from the underside of _Family Tree_. He knew that Roman tended to be a little bit bitter when other people got ship upgrades - or in this case, a whole new ship - and he was still working with what little was allotted to him by the office to fix things up. It was almost like they wanted Roman to be around, but didn’t want him to get too comfortable with success. He tried to, anyway.

“He’s good, just a lot on his mind,” Dean assured him, rubbing the other guy’s shoulder slightly. “So, you’re calling it _The Architect_ , huh? That sounds interesting, catchy… way better’n most of the names around here.”

“Yeah, I’ve had that name in my head since I was a little kid… don’t remember where it came from, but I gotta stick to my roots, y’know?” Seth was smiling again, even more so as they got closer to the rest of the ships and more specifically, _Siren’s Call_. “Got someone I want you to meet.”

Dean wondered who it was that he was going to meet on _Siren’s Call_ that he hadn’t introduced Seth to himself before. Suddenly, there was a yipping noise as a brown furball came rushing down the aisleway towards them. Judging by the way that Seth had just as suddenly dropped down to greet the thing, this was who Seth was introducing him to.

“This is Kevin, my dog,” Seth explained, and Kevin just looked up and lolled his tongue out at Dean, and he couldn’t help but smile at the little guy. Sure, he resembled a hairier womp rat in Dean’s opinion (and what was up with that name?), but if he was Seth’s dog and was _this_ excited to see him, then he couldn’t be too bad.

“He’s cute,” Dean replied, kneeling down after a second next to Seth to get some of Kevin’s attention for himself. After all, ‘love me, love my dog’, right? Kevin must have picked up on those vibes for himself, considering he turned away from Seth once the other guy was done scratching his neck to lick the hand that Dean had provided to him.

“Oh, he must really like you if he’s licking you already,” Seth marveled quietly, stroking Kevin’s back. “I’m gonna have him on the ship with me when I fly, just like when Tyson and Nattie have their cats onboard.”

“Viper allows that?” Dean asked, not really taking the guy for a cat person or really any kind of person at all. “Huh.” He turned to look at Seth. “You looking for more people onboard if you’ve got the room?”

“Depends,” Seth replied, turning to look from Kevin to Dean, a devilish look in his eyes that made Dean’s heart beat just ever-so-slightly faster. “Are you offering?”


	5. Prepare for Liftoff

"You're not going up in that ship with him, are you?" Roman asked, watching from the cockpit of _Family Tree_ with Dean in the copilot's seat next to him as Seth puttered around underneath his ship, occasionally getting on a ladder to check the side of the ship as though he were measuring something. "I guarantee that he's measuring the free space on the hull right now for advertisements. You're going to be riding in a billboard."

"So he's making a little extra money on the side. That sounds fair enough to me." Dean shrugged. "I never understood why you never considered it. I mean, it's nothing to be ashamed of."

Roman gave him a look. "You know damn well that if I fucked with the ship's look that my family would never forgive me. You don't put bumper stickers on a Cadillac."

"No one puts _anything_ on a Caddy anymore; no one drives them," Dean replied with a smirk. "I'm just happy that Seth's getting to put his license to good use."

"Plus you get to spend some alone time with him..." Roman added with a wink, trying to nudge Dean in the ribs before he turned the chair to block his arm. Dean felt himself turn bright red.

"S'like... not even like that, man."

"And The Nile is merely an asteroid belt. Gotcha." Roman turned away to look at _The Architect_ again. "I just hope he knows what he's doing. A pilot's license isn't a replacement for common sense."

Dean did the same, his face cooling back down again as he watched Seth scribble something down on a notepad. "I think he'll be just fine."

* * *

Seth harrumphed as he looked at the side of his ship. His father had given him a catalog of potential sponsors (companies that had worked with WWE in the past or were comfortable with advertising on the side of freighters) to look at, but so far the only ones he was remotely interested in was some energy drink line, a clothing line he frequently bought from - maybe _that_ explained all the clothing that he got from his parents from holidays - and a record label.

He could only pick two, given the size of his ship. He was already going to look like a walking billboard with just that anyway. _This would be so much easier if Dad didn’t insist on advertising,_ he grumbled to himself. _How come_ Thug _doesn’t have to do advertisements, huh?_

“Working hard or hardly working?” a voice called from behind Seth, making him turn around. It was Dean, sauntering up to the ship with his tool belt low on his hips and a smile on his face. “You have the ad book, I see.”

“Yeah, Dad’s insisting.” Seth put the catalog down on the workbench, frowning. “Says I need to prove that I can make more than just base pay before he and Mom will let me go out on bigger missions. I think it’s just an excuse to keep me close, but what do I know?”

“More than you think,” Dean supplied. Seth tended to second-guess himself, and he figured that Dean had a feeling that that was more of his parents’ doing than Seth would readily admit. “Which ones are you looking at?” Dean stood next to him, looking down at the catalog open to advertisers J through L.

Seth shrugged. “This one right here,” Seth pointed out a company by the name of Kill Cliff, “this is an energy drink company. It’s shit; it tastes like rocket fuel, but it would look alright on the side of the cruiser. This one… and then this one here.” He flipped back a few pages to point at a brand called Glamour Kills. “I wear their stuff, actually, so this one makes sense.”

He heard Dean hum to himself, crossing his arms over his chest as he thought. “Well, I’d definitely pick something you actually like, so go with that one there, and you have room for how many?”

“Two.”

“Then go with that one and the other one. Worse comes to worse, they send you free drinks and you stick them in the company fridge for a couple’a months. It’s free money.” Dean clapped him on the back, sending a shiver up Seth’s spin. “After that, if you  got room left, I’ll paint somethin’ on there for ya.”

That piqued Seth’s interest. He didn’t want to say that Dean didn’t look the type to be artsy, but… “I didn’t know you did the paintings for the ships as well.”

“Oh, yeah.” Dean waved a hand like it was nothing. “It’s definitely a side thing, but it’s fun. Down in NXT, I did all of the _Big Apple_ ’s work for G and Big Cass and then some.”

“And then some?” Seth didn’t even know that the pilots down in WWE’s America-only developmental enterprise, were even allowed to change things about their ships, much less have them painted however they wanted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I painted a little apple on one of their burners to match.” Dean smirked as he walked past Seth, making him turn around to follow Dean with his eyes as he went and sat down in Seth’s chair by _The Architect_ , straddling the back of the chair with one of his legs on either side. “I never used to get away with shit like that when I worked for Brisket.”

Seth laughed out loud. “Who’d you give _that_ name to?”

“My old boss at the body shop - it was his place, Briscoe Brothers Body Shop down in Florida, and he got me my job here. Sure, I called him Jerry to his face, Gerald if I was really in some shit, but he’ll always be Brisket to me.”

“You’ve sure got a lot of stories, huh?” Seth asked, walking over to to the _Red Arrow_ next to his ship and snatching one of Gravity’s chairs so he could sit as well. “Sure you’re a hit at parties.”

“I’m a hit everywhere,” Dean replied, sounding jokingly miffed at Seth’s comment. He leaned forward, the front of his body pressed against the backrest of the chair. “If you’ve got time, I’ve got a bunch of stories from back then to tell you.”

Seth considered the offer. He had the time and he loved hanging out with Dean, but it would probably annoy his parents or one of their cronies if they came by to check on how he was doing and he was just shooting the breeze with one of the mechanics of all people. However, it _was_ Dean, after all, and the more time he spent with Seth, the better…

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Seth replied, spinning his chair around to sit in it the same way Dean was sitting in his. “Start with a good one.”

“They’re all good ones,” Dean countered. “The thing is, how much time you got?”

“For you?” Seth asked, and he could’ve sworn he saw something flicker over Dean’s face. “All the time in the world.”


	6. Baby's First Mission

Once he got his ship finished - Kill Cliff on the left side of the hull, Glamour Kills on the right - and cleared to fly, it was time for Seth to put in notice for missions. This was what he’d been looking forward to since he was a kid, ever since he was first allowed to fly with his dad in _Degeneration-X_ over a decade ago.

He remembered his first mission like it was yesterday. It had something to do with trading medical supplies with the United Nebulae, if he remembered correctly, but that wasn’t the fun part. No, it was the fact that he had a chance to ride with the absolute coolest crew to ever be a part of Wartime Wayfarers Enterprises that made that mission so special.

“Now, Seth, you can’t just go running ‘round the ship when we’re flying,” his dad explained as he dug through the assortment of bright lime green and black duffle bags that were lying around the back of _DX_ ’s cockpit. “Your mother wants you to stay near me as much as possible, so… don’t run around the ship, just walk.”

Seth smiled back with a gap-toothed grin. Dad (or as the other pilots knew him, Triple H) was always super cool when Mom wasn’t around, so long as he wasn’t getting into trouble. “Okay, I’ll walk.”

“Good.” His dad clapped him on the back as he opened up the bag with ‘HHH’ embroidered on the side, digging around again to find whatever he was looking for inside the bag and kept talking. “If Billy or Jesse say any swear words - and you know what I mean, you’re old enough to know which ones are which - I don’t want you repeating them either.”

“Yes, sir.” Seth watched as his father produced a green flight helmet, the same color as the rest of the green around the ship, and unsnapped the strap, plopping it down on Seth’s head.

“Perfect. Look at you, ready for action.” Hunter must’ve seen the look on Seth’s face, because he wrinkled his nose. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s _green_ ,” Seth complained, unable to mask his little nine-year-old disgust. “Why’s it gotta be green?”

“Shawn picked it out for you; he thought you’d like it.” His dad took it off of his head. “Tell you what. You only have to wear it when you’re coming in and out of the atmosphere, okay? Just to make us feel a little better about bringing a shrimp like you on board.”

The teasing grin on his dad’s face didn’t make up for the huge injustice he’d just committed. “I’m not a shrimp!” Seth protested, taking off the helmet as Hunter hauled him up into his arms, holding the flight helmet to his chest. “I’m gonna be a pilot just like you, and then I’ll show you!”

“I’m sure you will, kid,” Hunter replied, chucking him under the chin and smiling again, softer this time. “Now go head to the engine room and ask Miss Chyna if she needs any help with anything, alright? Come back to the cockpit after and we’ll get you set up, copilot.” He ruffled the top of Seth’s head and put him back down, and Seth remembered tearing off down the hallway to the engine room, so excited he could burst. There was a big difference between transport freighting - which was what WWE started off with initially, handling passenger cargo during the Great Galactic Split - to go from one place to another and actually being in the cockpit, watching the magic happen. Getting to fly and flying were two completely different things, and now, almost twenty years later, he was getting ready to do the latter all by himself.

Needless to say, Seth McMahon-Helmsley was downright terrified.

* * *

“You need to calm down,” Dean said as he sat in the pilot’s seat of _The Architect_ , watching Seth open, close, and reopen every compartment he had in the cockpit. “You went to school for this, didn’t you? That’s more than half the people in this company have done - most pilots just got their license and used their experience to get hired here.”

He watched as Seth ran a hand through his hair, turning around to look at Dean. “I went to school to be a pilot, yeah, but I always had someone flying by my side, even during my final. Now I’m flying solo.”

“You still have mission control,” he reminded him. “They can talk you through anything - hell, you know your mom’ll probably _make_ Cole talk you through it this first time.”

“That’s not the issue! That’s not…” Seth looked around. “Where’s Kevin? Can you get me Kevin?”

“Why?” Dean was confused. Kevin was probably chilling on Seth’s cot near the back of the ship or up in Seth’s mom’s office where he was likely to get treats if he stayed quiet and slept by her feet, according to Seth. “You need him right this instant?”

Seth nodded. “Yeah, get ‘im for me, please.” He looked more than a little anxious as Dean got up, brow furrowed, in search of the little guy.

“Kev… Kev, buddy, Seth needs you,” he called, expecting to hear the jingle-jangle of the little dog’s collar come bounding in his direction from elsewhere in the ship. “Kev, c’mon buddy.”

He heard nothing and decided to head back to the back of the ship himself. Maybe Kevin was down in the main hangar area, and that’d be a bitch to search in… or worse, he was alone and probably going to become Kevin jerky at the hands of _Sister Abigail_ ’s crew soon enough.

 _Please be here, please be here,_ he thought to himself as he walked through the threshold into Seth’s living space. Sure enough, there was a little lump of caramel-colored fur sleeping right underneath the pillow, his back rising and falling with every soft breath.

“Kev, buddy, time to get up - ow! _Fuck!_ ” Dean swore as he picked what he had assumed to be a still-sleeping Kevin up from the bed and had to wrench his hand away from where half of it was in Kevin’s mouth seconds later. “He bit me!”

He heard Seth coming down the hallway after him. “Yeah, he does that to people if they pick him up. Well, people that aren’t me.”

Dean restrained himself from chucking the little beast at the wall as he handed Kevin to his owner. “Teach him not to bite people that aren’t you before you start flying full-time, yeah? Unless you plan to bring him along.” A lightbulb went on in Dean’s head. “Hey, that’s not a bad idea. Nattie brings her cat up on _Legacy_ all the time; you can bring Kevin up on missions with you.”

Seth’s face brightened. “You think they’ll let me?”

“Sure. Just get him a harness so you can keep him strapped in for liftoff and you’re good to go. I doubt he’d want to be put in a cage.” The way Kevin looked at him at the mere suggestion of being locked up only confirmed his suspicions.

“Maybe I don’t have to fly alone, then.” Seth hitched Kevin further up on his shoulder. “You wanna fly around with me, bud? How about it?” He looked back up at Dean, his expression a complete 180 from how it had been only minutes before. “Thanks for all this, Dean.”

 _He should smile like that more often,_ Dean thought to himself before nodding and smiling back. “‘S my pleasure.”


	7. Set Phasers to 'Kiss Me'

Dean looked around the hangar as he packed up his tools to return them to the storage drawer for the last time that day. Well, it was no longer “day” anymore, at least not in his quadrant. Looking at the barrenness of the hangar with maybe one or two other last-minute workers out of the whole office checking over ships one last time, daytime had ended a long time ago for most of WWE.

His day likely would’ve ended earlier too if it hadn’t been for Seth. His first mission was tomorrow, and even though he shook off the pre-flight jitters once he’d gotten Kevin into his arms, Seth was still a little anxious about how _The Architect_ was going to fly.

“Can you just run through the system one last time?” Seth had asked around dinnertime, sidling up next to Dean at _Family Tree_ where Dean was fixing something Roman had done that, yet again, caused a lot more heat than usual. “I wanna make sure my baby’s spotless.”

“Your baby _is_ spotless,” Dean replied with a grunt as he tightened a bolt back down where it belonged in the conditioning panel. “You haven’t even left the atmosphere in it yet.”

“Please, Dean?” Seth pressed, and Dean found himself sighing and saying yes when he finally turned to see that pleading face. Roman laughed about later when he came down from the cockpit and asked why Seth was just hanging out under the ship without coming up to say hello.

“Maybe your callsign is fitting after all, man,” he said with a knowing grin on his face that mirrored the one Dean had had on his face before Roman had started dating his now-girlfriend a couple years back. “You really are a lunatic. You’re _crazy_ for Seth.” That earned his best friend and brother a pair of single-finger salutes, but Dean couldn’t really reply otherwise. Roman had a point - for some reason, Dean just couldn’t say no to Seth.

 _Because you love him,_ a niggling voice in the back of his head hinted, but he quickly shot that idea down. He barely knew Seth, and _love_ was one hell of a strong word to use on someone that hadn’t even existed in his life just over two months ago.

Still, Dean knew that Seth was definitely something special. Exactly how special he was and why could be figured out later. Right now, Dean needed to get back to his quarters in the back, shower, and sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

* * *

For Seth, the day began as it always did: paws on his stomach, a wet nose against his collarbone, and the covers somehow coming off from where they had been tucked around and under his feet during the night. Nothing was different, not even the smell of food wafting into his suite from the sitting area downstairs where he knew his family’s personal chef was already up and awaiting McMahons and Helmsleys to serve breakfast to.

 _I’m going to have to skip that today,_ he thought to himself, turning his head slightly to look across the room at his closet door where there was a brand-new WWE pilot’s jacket hanging off of the doorknob. _I’ll bring something along to take with me on the mission._

It wasn’t really a mission, from a technical point of view - “missions” were government-contracted business while “orders” involved private shipments to and from locations - but the term excited Seth nonetheless. It felt so official to say, on top of his own ship, his own gear… all he was missing was a callsign.

Dean could probably give him one, if he asked and Dean was in the hangar before he had to go. The chances of it being teasing like the ones Dean had assigned some pilots were slim, considering that he actually liked Seth (or he assumed so, anyway) and Dean knew how much doing this meant to him. Yeah - Dean would give him a great callsign.

Everyone seemed just as excited for Seth as he was for himself as he hurried through the office that morning to make sure his paperwork went through. He was pretty sure that his father had expedited everything for him, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Sure enough, everything was approved and his cargo was ready whenever he was.

“We’re expecting great things from you,” Cole from Mission Control said as he stopped by to give them his schedule personally. “If you’re anything like your father -”

Seth grinned. “Hopefully I’m better. And by the way, just call me Seth for the time being, alright?”

“Just Seth?” one of the other Mission Control announcers named Bradshaw asked, turning in his chair from where they were overlooking the hangar to look at Seth. “Ya ain’t got yourself a callsign yet?”

“I’ll probably have one for you guys by the end of the day, but for this time only, I’m Seth.”

“Seth it is, then.” Cole replied with a nod. “I would head down to the hangar now; you’re scheduled to leave in fifteen minutes.”

“Already on it!” Seth left Mission Control with a wave back, hurrying down the flights of stairs to get to the hangar floor. It was different being down there when he actually had something to do, and the excitement of only being a little under fifteen minutes out from flying was intoxicating. He had to find Dean first, though - he wasn’t about to leave without seeing him.

He spotted Dean heading toward the back of the hangar by the storage drawers, a cup of coffee (black, if Seth knew his friend) in one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. It wasn’t exactly early for most of the mechanics since they hit the floor before most of the flight crews did on a regular basis, but Seth figured that Dean must’ve had a long night.

“Morning, stranger!” Seth called, quickening his pace to fall in line with Dean’s walking. “I’m heading out in fifteen minutes. Exciting, huh?”

“Super exciting,” Dean agreed as he stopped walking to turn and look at Seth. “You should be heading to your ship, though, not talking to me.”

“I wanted to see you before I left and ask you about a callsign for me. I can’t really think of anything myself and the guys up in Mission Control are going to call me Seth this time, but I wanted a name like everyone else from here on out.” Seth hoped he didn’t sound too anxious as he spoke, but really, it was a miracle that he wasn’t excitedly bouncing around the hangar as is. “Did you ever think of something for me?”

He watched as Dean chewed on his lip for a few seconds, looking at the ground before back up at Seth, putting his coffee cup on a workbench next to them. “I… I don’t have anything for you yet, actually. Well, not a callsign for you, anyway.”

“Yeah?” Seth was confused, looking down at Dean’s coffee cup as if that had something to do with Dean’s strange behavior. When he looked back up, Dean was a step closer. He could feel his entire body shiver. Dean normally wasn’t that up close and personal with anyone, not even Roman, but Seth didn’t mind one bit how close Dean wanted to get. “What d’you have for me, then?”

It may have only actually taken a second, but to Seth it felt like a lifetime as Dean bridged the rest of the distance between himself and Seth to put a hand on Seth’s cheek and his lips on Seth’s as well. _Holy shit, this is really happening,_ Seth thought for a second before closing his own eyes as Dean had done barely a  moment before. He didn’t have a huge crush on Dean by any means (mostly because he wasn’t about to let it happen for fear that it wasn’t reciprocated, but he wasn’t about to admit that out loud), but his feelings were enough to make him kiss back, only stopping when Dean pulled away and stood back where he had before.

“I, uh…” Dean began, rocking a little backward on his heels. “That’s what I had.”

Seth couldn’t help but smile and watched Dean turn red at the sight in reply. “Is there more where that came from when I come back?”

“You want there to be more when you get back?” Dean asked slowly, keeping his eyes on Seth. “‘Cause you don’t have to be nice about it if you don’t -”

Seth looked at the time, seeing that if he wanted to fly out on time, he’d better get going regardless of how badly he wanted to stay now. “I want a callsign and ten more of those ready by the time I get back!” he called with a smile as he walked backward toward the direction of _The Architect_ , narrowly avoiding getting barreled over by a Bella who was coming from the opposite direction.

“Will do!” Dean called back, Seth still watching and walking as the mechanic picked his coffee back up and took a swig. “And be careful!”

He wanted to shoot back a smart, cocksure comment like _I’m always careful_ , but decided against it. Seth wouldn’t be careful now not because he had to be anymore, but rather because he had something - or someone, rather - to get back safely for.


	8. I Lost My Heart to a Starship Trooper (pt. 1)

“So you went out to the Caribbean Belt –” Dean prompted, leaning back into the ventilation shaft to finish installing the replacement panels Roman had ordered months ago and _Family Tree_ had only received the day before. “And then what?”

“Yeah, and it’s not any more interesting than it was back when my family vacationed there when I was little.” Seth leaned up against the side of the ship next to him. “I know you keep saying that you want to go –”

“Because I _do_ –”

“But there’s nothing to do there. You spend two days on the beach and you’re done. The novelty of island dwarf planets wears off quick.” Seth looked out on the rest of the hangar, spotting Kevin over by _Siren’s Call_ where he was getting scratches from 2Pawz, much to the chagrin of the pilot’s own animal companions. “We’re probably gonna end up vacationing somewhere else.”

For Dean, hearing that ‘we’ was still a little surreal. He and Seth had been seeing each other for about four months now, and while he was pretty sure that he wasn’t exactly Seth’s parents’ favorite person or the ideal choice for their son’s significant other, neither Stephanie nor Hunter had any issue with Seth’s suggestion that he come along on their annual off-season family vacation in the months to come.

He pulled himself slowly back out of the shaft, stowing the bolt fastener in a pocket on his toolbelt. “Alright. Your mom or dad say anything interesting yet ‘bout me coming? Any witty comments?”

“Nothing yet… hold on, stand still.” Seth licked his finger, wiping it on the bridge of Dean’s nose as he tried to slink away in disgust. “Hey, stand still!”

“That’s gross,” Dean complained as Seth kept rubbing at what Dean assumed was a grease spot on his face and he himself fought the urge to move some more. “You could’ve just told me to go wipe my face off.”

Seth shrugged, finally taking his finger off of Dean’s face to examine his handiwork. “This was a lot easier than you going all the way to the back. Besides, I don’t get to see you too often nowadays,” he added, pouting a little before heading back to the workbench Dean had set up next to the ship. “I’m always here when you’re off and vice versa.”

“You want me to talk to Roman and see if he can spare me for a couple of flights so I can come ride with you?”

“You say that like you’re up in the air with him,” Seth replied, leaning on the smooth metal side of the battlestar. _Family Tree_ was the flagship of the fleet, meaning there was plenty of space on the side for Seth to stretch his arms out wide. “You’re gravity-bound like most of Mission Control.”

Dean pointed a oil-blackened finger at his boyfriend as he walked back to his toolkit. “By choice.”

“Whatever you say.” Seth followed him back to the bench and then down the aisle between ships as Dean headed off to check on _The Architect_ before Seth made a point to ask. “You know, I could always put in a request with the main office to have you come with Kevin and I. It’d be a tight squeeze, but it’d be nice to have you come along.”

“It’d be nice to have you stop calling me at odd hours too,”  Dean replied, plunking his toolkit down on the top of one of _The Architect_ ’s wings. Both of them knew that the time difference between different parts of the system varied, but six _hours_ was a little too much for Dean to be accepting calls with when Seth had the ship tractioned up for the night.

“Hey, be gentle with the wing!” Seth picked Dean’s toolkit back up off the wing, surprised at how light it was for being made of metal. “I had to move the advertisement banners around.”

Dean furrowed his brow. “Why’d you move ‘em? You said you were gonna let me paint Kevin in his shock vest somewhere –”

Seth shrugged. “Yeah, well, I had to move the Kill Cliff to the wing. Something about visibility requirements in order to receive compensation. Then Glamour’s over there, Dad’s figuring out something with Black Craft Cult…”

“So you’re saying I can’t do anything with the ship right now.” Dean tried not to look too disappointed; Seth hadn’t exactly promised him that he could put art on the hull. He had a feeling that part of this was Seth’s parents’ doing as well, seeing as he was technically an extension of the family within the fleet. Cartoon dogs on the side of a McMahon-Helmsley’s ship didn’t sound like something Stephanie or Hunter would encourage.

“Just not until I figure everything out.” Seth swung the toolkit up into the pilot’s seat, huffing and kissing Dean on the cheek as he came back down the ladder to the side of the ship. “How come Roman never puts up any ads?”

Dean snorted. “Being The Rock’s old ship is advertisement enough. Besides, _Tree_ ’s a big ship. S’not competitive to slap a sticker up on it. Too much ad space.”

“Yeah. Guess so.”

There was a comfortable silence between the two of them as Dean tinkered around with checking the fuel lines underneath the ship. Neither of them talking out loud allowed for Dean to reason with himself inside his head about whether or not he should ask Seth to put in a flight partner request. It would be a simple request to fill, since he’s already technically cleared to fly with Roman, but the principle of the thing is different since it would be with Seth.

 _You get to spend more time with him that way, though,_ he reminded himself. _Quit being such a chickenshit._

 _It’s not being a chickenshit, it’s called flight sickness,_ he reminded himself right afterwards. _Doubt Seth would enjoy you hurling on him during takeoff like he doesn’t have enough to worry about then._

By the time that Dean had decided he would take the plunge and ask Seth later that week, it didn’t matter anyway.

Seth was grounded. Indefinitely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I can still write things!


End file.
